


Pound cake

by Bouncy_cat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 02:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1287457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncy_cat/pseuds/Bouncy_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants to lick Stiles' batter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pound cake

Derek is hovering.

Hovering like a ghost Sim getting ready to spook the hell out of someone. Except he doesn’t and it’s freaking Stiles out. What the hell is so special about Stiles baking a pound cake that Derek feels the need to stand in the kitchen and quietly observe his every move?

It’s not like it’s a secret recipe or anything, just a cake mix. All he has to do is add butter and eggs. Alright, so he adds a little more butter than the package says he should, but who the hell likes dry pound cake, right?

"Can I do something?" Derek asks. He sounds grumpy, but he looks…actually Stiles isn’t entirely sure how he looks.  _Earnest_  comes to mind. 

Maybe it’s Derek’s way of trying to be polite, or maybe he’s just sick of watching Scott and Isaac playing Halo in the Stilinski living room, either way it seems just a tiny little bit cruel to answer that Derek can get the hell out of the kitchen and stop creeping…so Stiles refrains. “You can butter the loaf pan,” he offers instead. It’s Stiles least favorite part of the process anyway.

Derek nods and Stiles turns away to get the hand mixer. He’s dumped the appropriate amount of butter, about 1,5 times what the recipe asks for, in the bowl already, and he mixes until it’s smooth. Sort of. Smooth as a clump of butter is going to get anyway. He dumps in the flour mix and the eggs and starts mixing again. 

Then he glances over at Derek to check the loaf pan.

Derek is gently rubbing his glistening, butter covered fingers through the pan, making sure it’s completely coated. Slippery fingers sliding over the metal like a caress…

Stiles swallows thickly and looks away. Sometimes he really wishes he wasn’t seventeen anymore. It must be nice to have a brain that  _doesn’t_ manage to make something sexual out of, well, _everything_. But then again, eighty year old nuns would probably think of sex when they see Derek Hale…

He resolutely kicks the thought of those slick fingers in other places out of his mind, and finishes the batter. Derek meanwhile is done with the pan and Stiles carefully scrapes the mixture into it. 

He puts the pan in the pre-heated oven, and allows himself to feel satisfied and accomplished for a moment. 70 minutes from now they’ll have delicious warm pound cake a la Stiles.  

Right, clean up is next.  He can’t let the batter dry or it’ll be a bitch to get the bowl and the beaters clean. 

Derek apparently had the same idea because when Stiles turns he has the bowl already in his hands. Stiles plucks it from his fingers, dumps it in the sink and reaches for the tap.

A pitiful, choked off, sound of protest comes from behind him  and stops him in his tracks. He slowly turns and raises an eyebrow at Derek. “Problem?”

"No", Derek grumbles, but his eyes don’t leave the bowl still sitting in the sink. 

After a few seconds of awkward silence the penny finally drops. “Oh wait,” Stiles mutters, “You want to-” He grabs the bowl from the sink and hands it back to Derek, who has a faint blush on his cheeks. 

Stiles own mom never let him eat the batter. Because, you know,  _raw eggs_.  But since werewolves don’t exactly have to worry about salmonella poisoning, he figures Derek’s family had no such compunctions. So if Derek wants to lick the bowl clean, and dear god Stiles wants to make a dog joke so badly, there’s really no harm.  

There’s a look on Derek’s face that comes close to bliss as he slides his finger through the bowl and then licks the batter off it,  _repeatedly_ , and Stiles can’t bring himself to look away this time. 

Soon the bowl is clean, but the beaters still have plenty of batter clinging to them, so Stiles takes one for himself, what are the odds of getting salmonella anyway? And hands the other one to Derek.

He’s about to take an experimental lick when he’s distracted by Derek’s tongue darting out to take a quick lick of his own. The man has his eyes closed and he’s fucking smiling and he looks like he’s seconds away from actually moaning and how is this Stiles life?  

Of course that’s the moment that Derek opens his eyes and notices Stiles unabashed stare. The red in his cheeks becomes more pronounced, but he keeps his eyes locked on Stiles.

Stiles pretty much stops breathing when Derek holds the eye contact and slowly licks the beater like it’s a fucking lollipop.

And  _holy shit_ , because that’s either a tease or an invitation and Derek isn’t generally one for teasing. 

The moment is broken when the kitchen door bangs open and Scott darts in. “Did you put it in the oven already? Is there any batter left?”

It takes a few seconds before Stiles is capable of answering. “Sorry buddy,” he says finally, “only people who help with the cake get to lick the equipment. You gotta work before you get a reward.”

"Awww" 

"Next time."

Derek meanwhile has dropped the nearly clean beater in the sink and follows Scott out of kitchen, studiously avoiding Stiles’ eyes, but Stiles is not going to get discouraged now. Hell, he’s made five year plans to woo and marry Lydia based on a twitching of her lips when she was looking in his general direction.  

He doesn’t need much in the way of encouragement, and the look Derek just gave him? Encouragement with a capital E.

So later when they put a movie on, Stiles drops down on the couch next to Derek, and he doesn’t even bother with the ‘yawn and stretch’ thing. He just drops his arm on the back of the couch behind Derek and two minutes later he’s playing with the soft hair at the nape of Derek’s neck. 

Derek does nothing to stop him, and Stiles grins at the TV-screen. He’s not even sure what movie is playing, he’s too busy planning out the necessary steps between sitting on this couch, and having Derek naked underneath him in his bed.

 

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